Open at the Close
by Gambhrina
Summary: A What-If Story. He was about to die—and before death found him, someone else did. Based off the scene in "The Forest Again" during the "Deathly Hallows".


Author's Note: _I hope you enjoy this story! Second one on . I __**do not**__ own Harry Potter._

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**OPEN AT THE CLOSE**

_He was about to die—and before death found him, someone else did. _

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The grass underneath his feet crunched quietly in the night air; his breath echoed throughout the night as his beating heart swelled several sizes, fear and desolation filling his very being; the resounding noises of the rustling trees of the Forbidden Forest lay ahead, beckoning him forward, its fingers extending to him to pull him in; the cackling sounds of the nearly collapsing Hogwarts followed behind him, filling his mind with an overwhelming sense of dread. No longer would he be on these grounds, walking freely and sniffing the air. No longer would he be soaring through the skies on the Quidditch field, feeling the wind brush against his face as he glided within the air. No longer would he see his friends, the people he had grown to care for at Hogwarts, and life itself.

As Harry walked, his body shook violently. His eyes were wide, protruding as he stared toward the forest. His green eyes filled with several thoughts of how it would happen—how he would die—how he would be dragged towards Hogwarts as a souvenir to show that Voldemort had conquered over the infamous _Boy Who Lived. _He nearly stumbled as he imagined the spell that he had once survived hitting him square in the chest, killing him instantly. Gasping for air, he placed his hand against his heart as his eyes intently focused on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

_But I must. . . I must. . . I can't let this battle last any longer. Innocent people are dying; families are losing loved ones all because I was too scared to give myself over to Voldemort. It'll all be over now. I can only hope that the others can fight, that the others can finish what I started—_

Harry found it hard to believe that other people had so much time. So much time to live, so much time for things; and then there was him: narrowly escaping death each time, and now the time had come. His time was over in this world.

The pouch at his neck dangled from side to side as his walk turned into a trudge, as his trudge turned into a stumble, and as his stumble turned into a stop. He closed his eyes tightly. He wouldn't allow himself to stop. There was no turning back; his future was set in stone, and there was no way he would be able to turn back. He could not turn around and run back and tell everyone what he was planning. He could not stop and fall to his knees and sob until there were no tears left because there was no time. _No time, _the thought resounded in his head as he moved forward, _no time for stopping. . . No stopping—_

_Hermione, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, George, Fred—_

His mouth suddenly became dry.

_Ginny—_

He heard her voice in his head, screaming to him. Harry found himself stumbling once again, swaying so severely that he nearly collapsed and rolled down the hill of the courtyard. It seemed all too real, her voice. It sounded as though it was not far away—as though it was becoming louder and louder by the minute as he continued to walk, his eyes deadlocked on the forest ahead, his mind blank and weary, and his heart excelling at rates that he thought it would never reach. _Ginny, get out of my head, _Harry thought frantically, _please get out of my head. It's too hard. _His head shook from side to side as the voice heightened in volume. He was surely beginning to lose his mind.

_Harry!_

The voice shouted constantly to him.

_Harry!_

It became louder.

_HARRY!_

It reached an earsplitting tone—

_HARRY, PLEASE!_

The voice shouted insanely at him and he froze in his tracks.

"_Harry!_" The voice repeated. Stricken with grief, Harry slowly turned, expecting to see nothing but empty land behind him. But instead, in the distance he saw her running. She was running towards him, her red hair blowing behind her, her face contorted into a horrified expression, her mouth parted wildly in a silent gasp. She scampered toward him, her eyes narrowed and her breath ragged. Harry was in a state of shock. Hadn't he walked pass her just minutes or so before without being sensed at all? _How could she have_—?

"Harry, what are you—" Ginny began, her breathing uncontrollable, "Voldemort is—"

"Ginny, I know."

"_You know_? Quite obviously you _don't, _seeing as how you're walking straight towards him!"

She was just a foot or so away from him now, staring at him incriminatingly. Her brown eyes were glossed over as she stood before him, gasping for breath. He found it hard to speak. To be so close, to be alone—

"I have to do this. I have to do this alone."

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. She stared back with a disbelieving expression appearing over her face.

"You mustn't stop me. I have to. It's the only way—"

"_THE ONLY WAY_?" Her cry nearly made his skin crawl. "_Whatever happened to fighting as a team? Whatever happening to having a plan, to sticking together—to defeating Voldemort as one? Did you or did you not say that or were you just giving a big show back then?_"

"Ginny—" He began, but she violently interrupted him.

"You're just going to give in? You're just going to walk to your death? Oi, don't be such a _martyr_!"

"I am _not_ being a _martyr_! I'm doing what should be done! You heard Voldemort! The longer this battle lasts, the more people that will die! I won't allow it!"

He stopped, staring at her. Ginny's face was still written with disbelief. And then, as if she had undergone a complete personality change, her body leaned forward slowly. Her head, once sitting up erect and alert, lowered also, causing her long, bright hair to fall against her shoulders. They both stood silently before one another; Harry felt his heart rate beginning to sail once again. As the trees swayed around them, bowing and emitting creaking sounds, they swung along the wind as it went across the grassy lawns of Hogwarts. Harry's eyes darted to the side, seeing the edge of the forest in the near distance. His body slowly began to pull backward.

"_You're giving yourself away_," Ginny began. Harry came to a halt.

"_How? Why? Why are you going to do such a thing? We're all here fighting. We all want to help! We're fighting with you and we're trying to beat Voldemort alongside you! And here you are about to go do something completely rash! Something completely idiotic! You're going to go give yourself up to him! That isn't heroic, it's rash! Harry, don't do it! We can put our heads together and think of a plan—!_"

"No," he interrupted. "There _is no _plan. What plan is there?"

A frown rapidly came across her face. "You don't have to do this—"

"_But Ginny, I do._" He repeated his eyes half-lid. "_He only wants me. No one else should be harmed. All I ask is for you and the others to fight until the end_—"

Quite suddenly, something fast and hard came in contact with his face. His head swung to the side, his cheek stinging as his body swung to the right. Surprised, his hand unconsciously rose to his face. He stared at her as his eyes widened in utter shock, yet her deep brown eyes did not flutter from his own. Ginny's hand was outstretched and in the air, her fingers spread. Her palm had turned a vivid red. Harry attempted to ignore the pain, but it was all too strong to forget.

"_You pompous idiot_! _We need you_! _We can't do this alone_!" She lowered her hand as her head rocked from side to side, her hair tossing in the air. "_Idiotic_! _Stupidity_!" Stumbling forward, Ginny wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him so closely that his face became buried into her hair. "_Don't. . . Harry, please don't. . ._"

Harry felt his heart faltering. "_G-Ginny, stop it_—"

Her whispering was slowly becoming faint as she rested her hands roughly on both sides of his face. And slowly, but surely, he acted on his own. His lips captured her's, reacting; his hungry, wanting kiss caused him to succumb to her sobbing. For a mere second he saw himself lost in an abyss of sorrow and regret. He would definitely turn back; he would go back with Ginny to the castle; he would not do this alone. _You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. . . One hour. . ._

Harry's eyes slowly opened as he remembered those exact words echoing through the sky. Slowly, he pulled back from Ginny, his eyes surveying her. She was uncontrollably sobbing, clinging to him—begging him. He wanted to follow his heart back to Hogwarts, yet, as he remembered the many people who he had watched fall, he knew he could only follow his conscience. Delicately, he grabbed hold of Ginny's hands, clutching them tightly within his hand. Her eyes widened, tears still bellowing from them.

"_Ginny, this hurts me so much more. . . But I can't, I'm sorry—_"

A choked gasp escaped her lips as he placed a soft, long kiss against her right hand. Harry closed his eyes tightly, desperately trying to keep himself from breaking down in tears. He lowered her hand, and then quickly tried to remove his hands from her own. She reacted violently, tightening her hold on him. He stared into her eyes, this time forcefully tugging his hands away from her, and she tugged back just as hard. The next few minutes were a struggle; they twisted, turned as one and the other tried to win the battle. And inevitably, Harry's hands became free from Ginny's.

"_Harry, you mustn't_— _Oh, Harry, you mustn't do this_—!"

She let out violent sobs as she reached out to him. Frowning slowly, Harry stood back, moving out of her reach.

"_Ginny, don't cry. Don't cry for me._"

He clutched the pouch around his neck as he walked backward. Ginny collapsed to her knees as she realized that no amount of pleading and sobbing would stop him. And he walked—walked toward the edge of the forest as his nerveless fingers fumbled at the pouch between his fingers. The Snitch fell from the pouch and into his widened hand. He stared at it; the vivid memories of how he had come to capture and receive it resonated within his mind. And as he found himself walking into the forest, and with the sound of Ginny's sound no longer present, he pressed the Snitch slowly to his lips.

_I open at the close._

"_I am about to die_."

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_Ending note: this story was inspired by "Open at the Close" by Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls. You can find this song on youtube by typing the keywords "open at the close" and "Oliver". _


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